Secret Inanities of the Yagami Kind
by Rokutagrl
Summary: There are some things no one person should be subjected to. Unfortunately for Taichi Yagami all of these things are just routine in his life. Taishirou.
1. Unnecessary Truths about the World

Title: Secret Inanities of the Yagami Kind

Author: Rokutagrl

Disclaimer: I, ladies and gentlemen, am not the owner of Digimon.

Characters: Mainly the 01 cast, with random 02 members thrown in every once and a while!

Pairings: Taishirou, but the others you'll have to read to see :D

Warnings: Just odd silliness.

Summary: There are some things no one person should ever be subjected to. Unfortunately for Taichi Yagami all of this is just routine in his inane life.

A/N: Edited :D

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There's something awfully sad, yet poetically romantic about falling in love with your best friend because you've resigned yourself—unwittingly—to a fate worse than any punishment the damned devil could scheme up.

Really, any torment in hell would probably be a vacation next to this. The fact that you're in hell also means you've probably died and now no longer have to face said person, where as on a regular vacation they would most likely be waving at you from the next seat. So, uhm, congratulations on your passing, by the way!

All right, so there's only a fifty percent chance of actually getting an 'I like you, too!' reply in this kind of situation. The other fifty percent being that you watch them be swept away by a Dashing Prince (or Lovely Princess).

True, it's the same chance you take in every relationship, but most people are smart enough to create an attraction to someone they hardly know. Why are they smart? Because when that Prince (or Princess) does come skulking around, they don't have to wake up with dread every morning knowing that they'll have to look into those puppy dog eyes filled with overwhelming happiness that they did NOT help put there.

Most people are smart that way.

But not I. Oh no. Certainly not.

I went and fell in love with my Best Fucking Friend.

Most people would say that I'm the pitfall of the barrel—certainly not the brightest person out there. So I guess the fact that I've stupidly fallen head over heels while knowing all this shouldn't be the greatest shock jock to hit the streets since Michael Jackson turned white.

The worse part of it is that I don't even get that fifty percent chance of happiness with the winner my heart picked out. No, Life wouldn't be that fair.

Because when you're a guy in love with your best friend, who also happens to have a little something extra between the legs, the chances of actually getting any sort of reply to any sort of confession (at least a _nice _reply) slims down to perhaps a twenty-five percent.

And when that person happens to be Izumi, Koushirou whose greatest love ever born was actually invented the chances of him actually hearing and responding equals out to a flat negative one hundred and twenty percent.

I'm not too certain if my calculations are correct, because let's face it I failed Statistics three times in High School and only passed with a B- in College because Koushirou offered to help me with my work (more like beat me verbally to _do_ my work). And I might have been able to pull off a solid B if not for the fact that I shared said class with none other than the redheaded genius distracting me every ten seconds. The way he chews his pencils can be rather sensual… I mean, hypnotic… I mean… Yeah…

See how fair life is?

It doesn't help one bit either that we never get to see each other now that we're college graduates. Like the fact that our hometowns are eight hours away by train, much more by car. That's money and time neither of us actually have to spare.

And now that the bastard has gone off overseas, the amount of time we get to see each other is also somewhere in the negative digits.

Fuck Statistics.

And you know what else really sucks? When Koushirou _does_ start to notice the female race I'll probably be the first (and only) person to hear about it. Or the fact that a Miss Mimi Tachikawa from work is actually batting her faux long lashes at him for reasons other than dry eyes. Or when he discovers the hidden motives behind her courteous behavior—and most probably the after effects of said "courtesy"— I'll be receiving an e-mail about that, as well. All this from the guy I finally want to notice _me_!

But having fallen in love with my best friend, who is also male, and also oblivious to all breathing creatures on earth, this is the fate I've resigned myself to.

Because even though I might not be the one putting that extra sparkle in his deep black eyes, at least I'll know he's happy.

And I can live with that.

I think…


	2. The Silence Between Static

Another fun filled edited chapter :D Basically a preview to the relationship between Taichi and Koushirou! YAY! I also first wrote this ON Christmas, so I shall leave the happy cheers as they are :D

Also I made Koushirou live in Osaka—it's far from Odaiba and I thought the country would drive poor Koushirou insane :3

----

It's the obnoxiously loud ringing of my phone that awakens me in the middle of the night. I recognize the song as one of Yamato's sample ring tones he forced me to download a few weeks ago as some sort of publicity stunt. He must have also changed my previous tones, thus resulting in this new, unfortunate way that brings me into consciousness.

I drag my feet out of the comfort of my warm blankets. Even in the dead of winter my mother finds it inappropriate to use the heating system for fear of the Horrible Electricity Bill of Doom. The house is freezing and my body now used to warmth shivers with the new atmosphere. I reach for the sweater I purposefully left on the side of my bed for such this purpose, yawning as I leisurely pull the darkened gray sweater over my bushy bed head.

The ringing stops for the moment, obviously the caller having reached my voice mail by now. This doesn't completely concern me as I continue taking my time with another yawn. I'm certain with myself that in bare moments the call will come through once more and I'm rewarded for my correct thinking (this is not the time to laugh at the pure irony of my statement) as Yamato's Song livens my room.

It's times like these, while I stumble blindly in the dark around objects on the floor, using the melody as my guide, that Hikari and I no longer share a room. She moved into Dad's old workspace a couple of months before my departure to college. It was ridiculous for two practically grown siblings of the opposite sex to be sharing the same living space together. Also late night essays to different colleges helped keep her awake well into the night. There was a complete violation of privacy and lack of sleep occurring in this room that even though it mattered less after college, it was still nice returning to a room I could call my own.

"Hello…?" My voice slurs on it's own accord. After receiving three hours of sleep on average since starting college my voice, and the rest of my body, tingles with utter exhaustion. It really can't be helped.

I knew who it was on the other line without even glancing at the caller ID. There was only one person in this world that could find late night, or early morning, calls to my cell phone perfectly natural.

"It's me…Koushirou. Did I wake you?" A sleepy smile dawns my face at his hurried words. He knows damn well I had been asleep, as I knew this would not be the last time I heard his voice at four-thirty in the morning. Honestly, I would be less surprised if he had yet to go to bed himself and instead been working on one of his many insane inventions.

"Don't worry about it. What's on your mind?"

"The repercussions NASA engine fuels have on the environment and its effects on astrological atmospheric pressures…" he gasps out, as though he had been withholding his thoughts far too long. It's all gibberish to me, personally. I suppose it's his way of paying me back for all the soccer games I dragged him to during college, or the ones I watched almost religiously on the television.

"I've been having some trouble sleeping myself," I laugh off handedly, feeling the tingles of sleep leave my body now. It was a horrible feeling I'd suffer only for these morning talks with him. Only him, just as I was the only person I'm sure he felt safe enough calling during the peak hours of the morning while the sun was just starting to rise.

"…I suppose I have become accustomed to the sounds of campus life on the other side of my window, or the breathing of someone else in the same room. Being home, alone, like this has had an outstanding effect on my psychological functioning.

"Suppose I never find sleep again? I know it's impossible to die due to sleep deprivation, but how shall I function during data control? Or suppose I doze off during a difficult procedure that brings about a devastating effect on the human race… the environment?!"

I laugh quietly as his overly analyzed paranoia jumps over the line. Typical Koushirou. The way he speaks and acts, most people have trouble understanding, but for about the last three years of our friendship I've learned to translate Koushirou rather well. Not that I'm bragging or anything.

"I miss college, too, Kou. You'll get back into the groove of things soon!"

"Yes, but perhaps not soon enough! I fear I may be shortly running out of NASA programming material… Taichi, what will I do then?!"

"Probably call me again at four in the morning to discuss the lack of protection in the pentagon security system?" I try with a small laugh. In my mind's eye I can visualize a panicked, sulking Koushirou grabbing at strands of fiery red hair to clear the very awful notion that NASA will ever stop providing him with enough material. Really he's been hacking the same area since Junior year of college when the both of us had been assigned the same dorm room. It's the greatest pleasure he has ever known on this Earth.

"Sorry, Taichi. I'll let you go back to sleep?" He offers meekly, fearing the jest was somehow negatively attached.

"Nonsense. I'm awake now, you should take some sort of responsibility!"

(I really just want to hear you talk more).

I love him.

We practically live on opposing planets, we have dissimilar interests, and half the time I have no idea what he's doing or saying. Yet we're the best of friends. And I, Taichi Yagami, of twenty-two years have fallen undoubtedly head over heels in love with deep onyx eyes and a penchant for technology.

And while there is so much I have told him about my life, secret dreams, and lifelong interests there are some things I will never say.

Out loud.

"You're too kind Yagami," he drawls out in his way of both reprimanding my character, while conveying his undying gratitude.

"I try," is my cheeky response.

(As long as it's for you).

"It's snowing down here. How about near you, Taichi?"

"I haven't checked, hold on," I simultaneously open the shade of my bedroom window, peering out into a blurry window. I wipe the condensation away with the sleeve of my sweater, still holding the phone to my ear as I work.

Outside as far as I can see is a winter wonderland staining the Odaiba area—the city streets are covered under the white crystals and I can't help the smile that reaches my lips begging to crack open my chapped lips.

"It's a blizzard out there! I can't wait to call the crew together for sledding!"

(I feel closer to you, knowing we're both seeing the same sort of sky… If only you were with me tonight, without just this phone connection).

Silence greeted me for the longest while. Then hesitantly he says, "…Do you remember the snow storm in Senior year?"

"How could I forget?! It took an hour and three people to drag you off the computer!" And I literally mean the word 'drag.' We had him eating snow by Midnight, and he was laughing with the rest of us by three in the morning. He even figured out how to get the sleds to go faster by using some snow, sticks, and something he learned from a physics textbook.

"…I'm glad you did so. I have no recollection of any memory of greater value to me. I wasn't really enjoying college life until I met you. I deeply appreciate your friendship, Taichi."

I think I'm blushing in the secrecy of my room, mulling over his words. Innocent as they are, my heart pounds sweetly against my chest, listening to the peaceful humming of his breath on the other line.

Just listening, it feels as though he were here in this room beside me. That we were having another late night discussion in our room, rather than miles and counties apart using the wavering signal of a digital connection.

"Taichi…?" his voice breaks through the silence, bringing me back to this gruesome reality. "Nevermind…. I will tell you only if it's for certain…"

For the last two and a half years I have undeniably, unfoundingly been in love with one Koushirou Izumi of the far away Osaka. The boy who refuses to leave my thoughts, who's nestled a home in my dreams, and forces my heart to beat a rhythm that could in all possibility bring my life to an end.

He's the only person who I would purposefully leave my cell phone on for incase of five in the morning phone calls to discuss atmospheric mumbo jumbo, and the negative effects of sleep deprivation—even though knowing the cause of such happened to be said early morning phone calls.

If this were one of those shoujo mangas my sister hid under her bed—which I completely did not read!—now would be the time Koushirou confesses his undying love to me. Myself, I'd find a way to far away Osaka in mere moments, the two of us would lay peacefully in each others arms, marry, and (as preposterous as it may sound) have a couple of kids running about the yard.

But reality isn't a shoujo manga (that I've never read), or a welcoming friend who asks, "What can I do for you?"

"Merry Christmas, Taichi!"

Reality is a bitch you went to middle school with, who decided to pants you in front of your friends during Gym class. They, and it, will probably never stop busting your balls for as long as you're alive (or awake).

"Yeah, Kou. Merry Christmas to you, too!"

(I love you more than you will ever know).

But then again, there are some things I could never say to him. Not then, and maybe not now.

"I shall call again next week! If that is not problematic?"

"I look forward to it."

(I really do).

I wouldn't hear from Koushirou again for another three weeks.


	3. Just a Hint of Desperation

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own.

Chapter: With Just a Hint of Desperation

Summary: Taichi has a very interesting plane ride in which not much occurs but slight plot development and horrendous jokes involving boobs, erections, and goldfish. Enjoy.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG! I'd like to explain it myself, but that would take too long and I don't think anyone would really want to hear it XD Basically I've just been busy, with some depression put into the mix which is SO over and all attributes to the fact that I have been… dead on this story. But I have recently taken to writing again and I would like to continue with this plot. Plus I just really loves Taishirou :D I tried making this chapter in the same fashion as the last, but I don't know how well I did so :/ I don't really expect anyone to still be reading this, but it would be amazing if they did :D

I will be getting the plot out faster than this last diddy. I just really wanted to get in some character development and get them to America. More shall happen next time methinks!

Happy New Years everyone :D!

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"So…" Yamato begins, which isn't a really a great segue into a conversation. And really, I don't have much interest in whatever he has to say currently. Shocking, I know! How could anyone not want to listen to the wisdom my dearest Ishida Yamato wishes to spout?

"Not now," I tell him without mentioning: "I would really appreciate your opinions a lot more if they were not stated." Plus I've been divesting much more energy into mentally burning a hole into the seat in front of me for the last seven hours.

(For complete details please refer to Mind Ramblings One and Mind Ramblings Two. Thank you, and have a nice day!)

Unfortunately my super mental powers don't seem to be working today because the seat is still in tact and Yamato can't hear my mental pleas.

"You and Izumi, huh? I guess I can see how you kept it in your pants for so long. I mean rooming with him for two years would have been hard if he were a real knock out, you know? Do technophiles get you off, man? Or was it all the high-tech information enough to kill your wood?"

By sheer chance Koushirou liked to bunk the beds, and nest in the top one. Said it helped make room for more of his equipment, but also being an only child he never got to taste the feel of sleeping above someone else. Luckily (for his sake) that meant I could not see Koushirou's face most of the time and had less chances of slipping my secrets.

I do not need to be sharing this information with Yamato, though. Maybe it's a good thing I don't actually have physic abilities.

"Hey, maybe those whirling machines made Little Taichi impotent. I read that can happen somewhere."

Oh, but boy could I go for some heat vision right about now!

I might not have anything extra going for me, but our stewardess certainly does. Not only is she perky in the face, hips, and chest (which means Yamato is still enjoying the day better than I am, dammit!), but also she chooses the exact moment discussion about Little Taichi begins to show up offering drinks.

We both order: Yamato a shot of whiskey and Sprite for myself. Drinking always makes me apprehensive so sticking to the good ole reliable soda for caffeine seems like the best bet. I don't like thinking about my low tolerance, either. She hands my blonde companion his skimpy glass, then offers me a kind smile before handing over the Sprite.

Or what I think is Sprite until I tip it back and splutter up water instead.

"Caffeine also decreases sperm count," she mentions 'helpfully' with a perky bounce in her step before carting off to annoy someone else.

Needless to say, Yamato is cracking up beside me. The guy behind is also highly amused, if his failed attempt at hiding his laughter is any indication. The fact that his son is asking, "What's sperm? And why doesn't he have any?" only serves to send Yamato into greater hysterics.

I should have never gotten up this morning. Scratch that: I should never get up.

I choose not to comment on my horrible use of word choice, because I'm not all that interested in grammar right now.

Or Yamato snorting about how he would totally love it if the stewardess became one of his groupies. In fact, he's wondering if he should go ask her to join the ever-exclusive "Mile High Club" with him.

And still, I have no interest.

Wanna know /why?/

Two days ago I tried calling Koushirou for the hundreth time in the last three weeks. One hundred is the amount stored in my cell phone anyway. I got bored constantly pressing the Send button and thought: 'Hey! Maybe he's actually just screening his calls and sending a discrete message through the interwebs!'

Good, reliable interwebs. You always know what I want. Like a nice, lengthy e-mail from Izumi Koushirou all about why he won't come to the phone because it's been disconnected, and how he just got internet, and oh, by the way, living in America for a little while and didn't mention it because he's just so dang-gone happy.

Yeah.

Exactly.

His exact words were:

Dearest Taichi,

It would appear our last date of contact happened on Christmas. Quite some time has passed since then for which I profusely apologize. It's been very hard sleeping these days without having your number to call, or my computer to work on (I sort of like being mentioned with his computer. It means I'm almost as important!). In fact I have just gotten everything back online today after many arguments with the electric company.

You see, Taichi, I am no longer a resident of Osaka, Japan. A couple of days after our discussion (because only Koushirou would call a phone conversation a 'discussion,' even at four or five in the morning) I was given the honors of being hired by a very promising company. Apprehend this: They want to sign me on for two years just to see how it goes. They really appreciated my resume—thought my college research had great "gumption." I shall also be given an apartment, admirable amounts of money per year, and free transportation!

I am very excited about this new adventure. So excited, factiously, that I actually disconnected my phone and computer three days too early (which does actually mean a lot. Once the power was off in the dorms for three days and Koushirou almost went crazy with the 'primitive' living style he was forced into. He then spent the rest of Junior Year building a better generator for our Senior Year dorm. I really had the best roommate!). Absurd, truly, but I'm even still shaking with the excitement and I am HERE!

Did I mention that here equates to New York City? (No. I don't remember THAT SMALL DETAIL!) Because it certainly does. I've been a resident for almost two weeks from today. I would have told you, but everything has come along so quickly only my parents are aware.

Oh Taichi, I wish you could see it! All the electrical information around here. It makes Osaka look even more primitive in comparison! I would believe the more equivalent image would be that of Tokyo, but that is a pale comparison to what I have witnessed these past couple of weeks.

I am currently helping a small company build on their computer technologies down here. These millionaires who actually live in the state over, run Tachikawa Corporations, the company I am currently employed through. They really are commendable! Apparently they own five other companies, have money in stocks all over, and their daughter is running her own catering company right out of culinary school!

Her name is Mimi Tachikawa, but she prefers just Mimi. Although everyone else seems to call her Miss Mimi… At any rate she is also pleasurable to be within company of! Just last week she visited my abode to make a splendid home cooked meal! It was perhaps the best sushi ever presented to my taste buds! How can I call myself Japanese?

(The rest of the letter doesn't really matter…For my sake, Let's pretend it doesn't actually exist).

I am having the most pleasurable stay Taichi! It would be more prodigious if you were actually here…

I have to sign off now. I am going to see my first American movie today. Mimi will be accompanying me to help with the English I do not comprehend. Although I am confident in my fluency, she insists on joining me anyway.

I wonder if all Americans are this decorous!

I shall send through my phone address as soon I have a working number!

That's her now!

Wish you were here,

Izumi Koushirou

Post Script: And a belated Happy New Year!

* * *

WHO THE FUCK IS MIMI TACHIKAWA!! And why did I have a sudden urge to commit First Degree Murder?

All right Taichi, breathing exercises. Relax; calm down, all that good stuff.

It was at this point in time I really needed some encouragement. And by encouragement what I was really looking for was a sympathetic shoulder and a bottle of beer—or twelve.

Unfortunately all I had was my minor sister, Hikari, and her really oddball of a friend. But Hikari's been dating Takeru since she was five so I guess it's safe to assume she knows exactly what she's doing in terms of relationships. Or in my case, lack thereof.

Me: [Entering her room] Hey Hikari, can we talk for a minute? Alone?

Hikari: …Is this about your friend again? Did you do the Lamaze technique like I taught you?

Oddball of a Friend: Oh! This must be your brother with the gay problems, huh? He's cute!

M: …What? Hikari, you told her?!

H: [She gives me her most apathetic look] If he's not picking up the phone, then he probably wants some space.

OF: Or maybe he's just really shy about his feelings!

M: Who the fuck are you?

OF: An expert! Oh, look! [She spends about two minutes going through her school bag before finding the most hideously pink book I have ever seen] I read them all the time, so I actually really understand your pain!

M: [Thumbing through the pages uninterestedly] Reading gay sex makes you an expert?

OF: I still have more experience than you.

Touché Oddball of a Friend.

An hour later I finished telling them my story of Great Woe over a plate of cookies and two downed glasses of milk. Cookies really are a healer. I wonder if anyone's tried suggesting Cookies and Milk to the government? I really think it might solve more world problems.

M: [The oddball who just recently introduced herself as Miyako] So what are you still doing here?

Me: What do you mean?

M: Shouldn't you be, I dunno, in America or something?

Me: Or something?

M: [Clearly not accepting that as an alternative] No wonder Izumi is leaving you for some American bimbo. You can't even fight for his love!

Me: Excuse me! Koushirou is not leaving me!

H: He's already left. [Thanks, sis. Your love shows a lot]

Me: …What do you expect me to do anyway? All my money goes to student loans. And work's been stiff lately.

M: Listen, Taichi! [She'll call Koushirou, Izumi, but obviously that's about where her respect ends] You need to quit your job, hop a plane, and get the hell over to America before some hot shit steals your man. Whisk him off his feet. Show him your love is forever! [She really gets into the mood for this. We lost a houseplant with all her arm sweeping and karate kicking.]

Me: I just said I don't have any money! Plane tickets cost money. Dinero. Qian. Whatever language you understand.

M: [Gives my sister a side glance before both of them sprout the scariest smiles I have ever seen in my life. Which is pretty scary because I've met some of Yamato's exes before.] You just leave that to me…

So I did.

As it turns out Miyako has an "In Case of Romance" Emergency Fund for special occasions such as this. She's been saving up ever since she read her first Romance Novel years ago. Can't say I'm complaining.

So yesterday they both purchased two round trip tickets for America. Originally Hikari was supposed to be sharing the trip with me, but came down with the flu suddenly. Somehow she found it appropriate to convince Yamato he had to accompany me.

Actually she convinced Takeru to convince Yamato. Considering they're related I can live without knowing the methods Hikari used to pull this off.

In fact, it's become one of my life goals to not know.

So I will stop thinking down this path once and for all.

"You know you totally owe me big for this Tai!" Yamato mentions lamely over his second shot of Whiskey.

"I had a gig this weekend. And I was this close to getting Shouji to go out with me!" He gestures wildly with his fingers, estimating his potential Laid-Dar. He swears he was born with one. "But I guess it'd be great if we get some fans overseas, too!"

The thing about Yamato is that he thinks he's in a band. Technically, he is. But it's run out the bassist's parent's garage when they actually pay their electricity bills.

So, almost never.

It's kind of a shame, since they're actually pretty good. Unfortunately Yamato is the only one with actual talent and matching looks. So while the group doesn't have a fan base, the bastard most certainly does.

"If this thing with Izumi doesn't work out, want I should give you some of my male admirers?"

Did I mention that Yamato is the only friend I have in Odaiba who doesn't have a job to get to everyday? Sure, he's the Best Friend (after Koushirou) that I've known since mud pies were the delicacy of the playground.

It doesn't make me happy.

"How generous of you, Yamato. I think I'll pass." I'm not all that interested in other guys, but it helps a lot that I've seen Yamato's "male admirers." Mostly fifty-year-old men in tight leather pants trying to recapture their youth. And if they were lucky, the pretty singer's too.

If it weren't for the generous amounts of butterflies flapping around in my stomach I probably would have thrown up in my mouth.

"You just hang tight, man! I'll get us something to pass the flight!"

----

I don't remember going to sleep, but I also don't remember throwing back three shots of vodka and telling anyone who would listen my current love issues. Or that apparently my favorite flower is the goldfish.

Apparently Yamato has it good with Perky Stewardess and convinced her to share the wealth. As it turns out the wealth is not cereal. And it most certainly is not water—unless you speak Russian. Maybe Yamato told her it would help with my non-existent potency issues. Of course if she had been anywhere in hearing distant for the last couple of hours than she might have heard, also, that I actually don't have any problem getting it up.

And especially not for redheads.

Noticed that the man and his kid are no longer sitting behind us. I'm only slightly disappointed about this since the kid had been throwing spit bubbles at Yamato's hair for part of the ride.

"—Thank you for flying Nippon Airlines! Please enjoy your stay!"

Wait, we're here? We're in America? We made it?

I'm going to try and sweep Koushirou away from a millionaire's gorgeous daughter? Does that sound as pathetic out loud as it does in my head?

"Sir, are you going to be okay? Do you need a vomit bag?" Perky Bre—Stewardess looks more concerned (and a lot more rumpled) than she should.

I really wish I could throw up. If I aimed just right I probably could have gotten it all in Yamato's lap, which would have completely ruined his day. And made mine.

Unfortunately I can't seem to do that so after much breathing control we gather up our pathetic amount of luggage and are then encouraged greatly to get out as soon as possible. I'm guessing they're not looking forward to two weeks from now. I certainly am, for many reasons.

Yamato and I share idle chatter as we roll our bags towards the exit. We hail a taxi into the city using the last of the "IoR"EF. I'm kind of really happy when it turns out to be more, because Yamato puts up for the difference. He just doesn't know it's his money yet. I also don't remember when I got his wallet, or the methods I used, but I'm not going to loose sleep over it tonight, either.

"So where are we staying tonight?" Yamato asks innocently using his suitcase as a makeshift seat in the middle of a crowded street.

It isn't until Yamato repeats himself it actually hits me. That is, I just got sucker punched by my own stupidity.

I didn't have a reservation anywhere. I didn't have a place to stay. I didn't even know if I had money enough for food. I didn't know where Koushirou was, who he was with, how he would feel about this, about me. I didn't even know if I wanted to tell him how I felt and realize he wanted nothing else to do with me.

I was in America and I most certainly did not have a plan.

"I spy with my little head something that starts with E Cup!"

Instead I had Yamato. Where was the "In Case of Migraine" Emergency Fund when you really need it? Heck, I'd settle for the skimpier "In Case of Utter Stupidity" Emergency Fund!

----

Heh. Was this chapter as bad for you as it was for me? I really like writing Taichi in all his mental depravity but yeah… This wasn't a great chapter. I will work on making it better in the future :/ Also I wrote this at 4 in the morning, then edited it at 6 XD that could contribute to a lot! But really Happy New Years everyone :D


	4. The Invention of Regret

"I love you, Koushirou!" Finally, after all this time the words fall so naturally off the tip of my tongue. Even so, I can barely bring myself to look at him—to see the hate, rejection, and disgust I've been all too certain of since I first admitted to myself that I was attracted to men. To him, specifically.

Who better to find us in the middle of New York with no way of knowing heads or tails of our situation than the exact person we came here looking for? What luck! Koushirou took us back to his apartment where we enjoyed nauseating take-out and filled our memories with the good old times. Yamato took the cue after dessert that it was about time for a "beer run," and has been gone ever since.

So here I am with Koushirou, in his lone little apartment, trying to remember when all the air had been sucked out of the room. What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to say it?

Planning was never quite my forte, so in true Taichi-nature I laid my cards out on the table. Then, I told him. That's about where we are right now…

He doesn't seem mad, I realize after a couple minutes of silence. It's much easier to control a situation when the other person looks more embarrassed than you feel.

"Taichi!" He gasps, while turning about twenty shades redder than his hair. "I've always…loved you, too."

"Well I completely under—Say what?"

He doesn't have much of a chance to answer, being caught in a Taichi-Floor-Sandwich and all. His hands start to alternating between tugging and relaxing against my scalp all in an effort to drive me utterly insane. I'm certain of this theory, otherwise we would have reached this stage several years ago.

Wait, why the hell am I thinking?

"Taichi, please!" I don't know exactly what he's begging for, but I'm about one hundred and fifteen percent ready to help him receive it. Heh, bad thoughts!

I start pawing at his hips, tugging him as close as our clothes will allow. It's the perfect situation. The kind I've dreamt of for far too long.

So it figures that when I'm half done unbuttoning his shirt that Yamato makes an unnecessary appearance. "Dude! Not cool! I thought we agreed on no wet dreams!"

Had you going there for a minute, didn't I?

Yeah… Me, too…

Instead of a "hot and heavy" make-out session on Koushirou's floor, I was actually hot and sweaty under the covers with Yamato. Guess which scenario I prefer? You get ten chances.

I lie awake for ten more minutes before realizing sleep wouldn't be my guest for the rest of the evening. As quietly as I can muster I roll out of bed and messily slip on my jeans from the previous day. Might as well go for a walk.

"Thank God! A single!" I hear my blonde friend exclaim just as the door shuts. Normally I would have run back and jumped on the bed just to prove him wrong, but it doesn't seem right in this situation. After all, it's Yamato's fault we have a roof over our heads.

Just a couple of hours ago we were barely tourists on the streets of an unfamiliar city. I'd been eyeing a lonely street corner for the best ofference of warmth when Yamato—wonderful, beautiful, great Yamato!—pulled out his harmonica and started playing to the crowds.

Okay, so he was really trying to impress a gaggle of girls in mini skirts but the point being that instead of numbers they handed over several coins. It didn't take long for us to realize that if we held out our hands and Yamato played we could actually make some money. It also helps when you lay on the guilt quite a bit. Who can resist attractive, hopeless guys?

We spent most of the twilight hours counting the money we earned, which really wasn't much. It was a good thing I passed English (on my own) or else we would have been royally screwed. Read: Yamato flunked!

So after a very long day and a rather tiring evening it didn't seem like such a bad price to pay for a single room in the cheapest hotel we could find. Heck, a cardboard box would have been paradise to our alternative.

The women at the front desk must not see young and sober Japanese tourist so early in the morning (since the clock in the elevator says that it's past two), because they look rather shocked when I turn the corner into the Main Entrance. They give each other this little suspicious look before one cautiously approaches with her best "we totally weren't frightened or anything" face.

I hope she can't read the "are you speaking gibberish" look I'm most likely sporting. I honestly have no idea what she's trying to say, but she obviously thinks it's Japanese.

"Are you all right, sir?" Is about the only equivalent I can think of for this situation.

"Uhm…Yeah," I tell her showing off my lifetime skills. Yeah, Taichi. Way to go!

"Just to let you know," she continues beating my native tongue to death with a pleasant smile. Hey, so long as she's happy doing it who am I to complain? "Everything is closed this evening."

If I heard right, then that's a damn shame! I was so looking forward to a nice, long, _cold _dip in the outdoor pool. In the middle of January. At night.

But I bite my tongue anyway wishing them a good night in proper English. Their faces alone are enough to make this little adventure worth sharing a bed with Yamato.

I hadn't exactly been planning on their facilities being opened, but there really wasn't all that much I could do in the darkness of the room. For one Yamato was there so even reading a book—if I stooped that low—would have been nearly impossible. Secondly I hadn't exactly thrown together extra materials for recreational activities.

…Damn. Big words just remind me of Koushirou, which reminds the butterflies in the pit of my stomach to flap around, effectively lambasting every organ in my body. I just flew across an ocean to come here. Of all the bird-brained, stupid, unnecessary things I've done in my life this takes the Cake of Failure. I could have just typed him a nice little love letter and sent it while nestling under the covers at home. Then he could have decided for himself if he ever wanted to see me again, or even type out a response.

I've been grounding myself for rejection, yet here I am in America chasing after a cause already filed under "Hopeless." With a capital 'H' for emphasis.

Note to self: Stop listening to flat-chested, pink-book-wielding adolescents.

Note to self: You should probably stop listening to women. And your own thoughts…

I'm not sleeping anymore tonight. Instead I continue my exercise until I'm forced to make a double take. I even rub the side of my face to make sure I'm really all there because I was certain the ladies from the Help Desk said all their faculties were closed (in more ways than one).

Maybe I just didn't get the part where she mentioned, "The lounge will be open for usage tonight," because it is in fact opened. Sure, the lights have been partially dimmed and all the television sets are off, but the door is wide-open. I even take a quick glance around to make sure I'm not intruding on the cleaning staff.

Nope.

I take another look around to make sure there's nobody around before snagging a scratchy looking couch. It might not be the same luxury Yamato is feeling right now but it sure feels great to stretch and relax at the same time. Plus I can think back on more interesting points of views without interruptions.

Like a nicely panting Koushirou on the couch in _his apartment. _No, strike that. Random Hotel action doesn't sound like such a bad idea right now.

And—

"Whoopsies!" Comes a voice preceding a rather obnoxious slamming of a door against the wall, which happens to be the alarm to bring me back to the fact that I'm in a hotel lounge after hours. Alone.

Life doesn't want me to sleep.

Guiltily I raise my hands in quiet surrender. Well, the gesture was quiet. I was shooting off about the fact that "I was just going for a walk, and I didn't think it would be a problem if I—"

My guest seems to find my gesture silly because she starts cracking up, clutching at her stomach. I swear she's on the verge of tears by the time it dissolves into more coherent giggles. She's about twenty feet away from where I'm kneeling over the back of the coach so I can't make out too much of her features but I'm sure of two things: the door behind her was the restroom and in her hands is an empty glass. Commonly used for liquor.

Clearly my mind adds together the fact that she's been drinking. That would explain the weird hysterics.

"You speak Japanese?" She asks me on her way back to the bar, motioning for me to join her. I stay put for a while until she goes to the back and starts playing with the bottles while huffing on occasion.

It takes me a second to realize that she actually spoke in proper Japanese herself, and that I had not answered her question. "I'm…on vacation."

She takes my lame somewhat excuse for truth with a frustrated nod. She's obviously more interested in the liquor than Couch Guy.

"What are you doing?" I prompt her again. This time she precariously lets the bottle drop on the counter and sighs as though I just wished her condolences on a dead parent.

"I always forget how to make a Cabana Club!" She complains with a longsuffering sigh. I note the bottle she just put down is clear. She really doesn't have a clue. "Do you want something?" She adds as an after thought.

I almost have to pinch myself, but then realize if this is a dream I don't really want to wake up. This is one of the luckiest things that has happened to me since I arrived here. Not only does somebody wish to talk to me, but they're also offering free booze.

So I only hate myself a little when I ask, "Isn't this stealing?"

After successfully shooing Bar Girl—her new classy name—out from behind the bar I set to work on reading each of the labels. I wasn't quite good at the reading of English, but I did have a better idea of what I was looking for.

"My parents own the Hotel," Bar Girl shares and I have to get a firm grip on the bottle before I drop it.

"I-i-is that so?" It kind of makes sense that no one has come by to arrest us yet. I'm sure the open lounge is a big indicator that something is amiss.

"Yup!" She chirps, clapping her hands delightfully. "I come here after work all the time! _Usually _the people I work with come, too, but they decided to go home after one drink." I'd give her full marks on her Heiress Pout.

"I don't like drinking alone," she mentions when I hand over her glass. She stares at me apprehensively as though I'm supposed to be doing something.

She is the Heiress here. I take part of the remaining rum and pour it into a clean shot glass. We clink our different poisons together while wishing the other, "Kampai!"

"Your Japanese is really good…"

"I know!" No modesty apparently. "My parents and I—this is _so _good!—used to live in Japan. We moved—where did you learn to make this?—when I was, like, ten. The language just kind of stuck with me. More?" I'm clocking her in at 65 miles per hour, excluding traffic

"I did some bartending in college. It kind of helped with the bills, but my mother wasn't all that happy with me for a while."

She downs her third drink since I've been here when I finally notice that she's rather pretty. Bar Girl has really soft, brown hair that curves around her shoulders and feathers her high slanted cheekbones. Her eyes have this wide amber appeal to them that seem more accentuated by a light layer of make up immaculately lining her eyelids.

Yet all I'm reminded of is the fact that Koushirou has eyes that large, instead of make-up though, they're decorated with lack of sleep. Her eyes sparkle with uncontained joy, but his always seem to have a thousand questions swimming endlessly. It's a difference in depth, I suppose.

It strikes me full force that a long time ago I would have seen her as a potential one nightstand. But now… No sexual innuendo. No sexual attraction. It's like seeing an actress in a frame and thinking, "Yeah… I guess she's okay to look at?"

Bar Girl can even make a scowl look attractive. She's probably not all that used to guys starring holes into her face since even I can tell her chest isn't a tragedy.

"So… You said you work? What do you do?"

"Oh! I own a catering company in the state over from here. Business has been so good lately we've even expanded! We specialize in Japanese Cuisine so most of the staff has some background! It's really exciting. I get to cook, and meet clients, and so many other things!"

"Someone as pretty as you must do quite well!"

I notice a powdered line of blush cross her cheeks and can't help but to think I've still got it! It's just ineffective on some people.

Redheads.

"You're quite flattering…" The odd brunette purses her lips and clicks her finger together a couple of times.

Fleetingly I wonder if I broke her until I realize she's looking for a name. I supply, "Taichi."

"Oh! Taichi! That's an excellent name! You make an excellent drink! I'd hire you in a minute. Actually that's not a bad idea… Our last bartender got herself pregnant… How long did you say you were going to be here?"

Listening to her is like watching a dog play with its tail. Confusing, somewhat pointless, entertaining, but it completely dominates your attention. "As of right now, two weeks."

"Oh." She looks pensive for a minute and I fear for probably the second time tonight that I broke her. Instead she starts asking me why I came here in the first place.

"Love," my third shot of rum decides to answer.

Bar Girls thinks it's the most precious thing since sliced bread. She starts twirling around on her stool waving her half empty glass around. Glad I'm not the cleaning staff. When she finishes her second revolution sparkling amber eyes stare straight up towards me like a child being read their first fairytale. I have this mental image of her dressed in a pink princess outfit having one of the handmaids re-reading her favorite story for the billionth time that night.

I can feel my face stretch to accommodate the silliness of that vision, which is probably more like a memory to Bar Girl.

"That's. So. Romantic!" she declares to the empty room and encourages me to have another drink 'on her.'

I could take that literally, but I think I'll be kind tonight since she is dispensing free liquor.

"So! Tell me about her! What's she like? Have you asked her out yet?" I have this bizarre thought that stars are going to jump out of her eyes and beat the shit out of me if I don't give her the information.

Except I've already filled my quota on sharing my personal issues with strangers for the day. Instead I fabricate the matter to being Yamato's search for 'true love.' I even add in the parts where we almost slept on the corner. It's not as romantic as she once deemed it so and decides to take time off from talking by meeting the counter head on.

"You know TaiTai, you seem like a great catch. I bet a lot of people fall for you," Bar Girl has this horrible habit of rubbing things in, doesn't she? "I wish I could fall for you."

It's nice knowing somebody in America likes me. I just hope she doesn't feel like putting in her own ticket. I don't care to explain that this lottery has already been won—just left unclaimed. Unwanted. Unnecessary…

Why _can't_ we decide whom we fall in love with? It'd make this nonsense all the more easier. I could handle loving a girl. Society could handle me loving a girl. My parents would accept any female I brought home, I'm sure. I haven't tested the waters on the other sex issue quite yet…

The silence of the lounge gives me time to drift back into thoughts better left behind. Like how I could easily just grab Bar Girl right now and set sail into the dawning sun. Except the image doesn't seem as shiny as I remember it. Probably because even if I were stuck on that street corner with no one but Koushirou for company, I think I'd be the happiest guy in the whole world. I can't choose that.

And I can't feel myself loving anybody else.

I think I've just reminded myself why I was depressed in the first place.

"I'm in love…" Bar Girl finally breaks out, chin prodding against the counter as she proffers over her glass. Her hair is a lot more fussed around instead of the perfection it had been flaunting earlier. We share another toast before downing the vile substances. "He doesn't even know I exist. _So _absorbed in those _stupid things_."

The sentiment sounds awfully familiar but I'm too busy counting back from 50 to care about her problems.

44…43…A…B…C…D…

Did I mention my horrible tolerance?

The quirky brunette bangs her glass too harshly against the counter that for a second I think she breaks it. I should probably start cutting her off soon. "You think I'm pretty, right TaiTai? You'd date me?"

"Yeah, you're pretty…" I inform her without the mention of, "I totally would never date you." She's just not my idea of a long-term relationship even despite my previous thoughts.

She accepts my spoken response as pure gold and claps her hand in delight. "So I was thinking…"

…About something I'm not interested in. My mind is already drifting back to those cruel thoughts, like what it would be like if I could marry Koushirou. We'd adopt a couple kids here and there—when we were ready. I don't think I could raise a proper society kid the way I am right now. Plus you need a consensual partner for something like that. It fucks up the kids.

I like children. Hikari says I'm like a giant one myself sometimes, but I used to take care of her when mom and dad went out and she turned out fine! Sarcastic, cynical, and apathetic towards her big brother, but still fine. Koushirou thinks she's a nice girl. The one time he spent a week at my house she put on this 'Perfect Angel' routine. Doing chores, smiling, and having a generally better attitude that winter. Of course she was collecting bribe money under the table while I got better acquainted with our bathroom…

"TAITAI!" Bar Girl shouts through my thoughts. I hadn't realized she was talking. She looks totally off put when her death glare proves ineffective against me. Can't say I blame her. I threw a couple hundred towards Yamato this last twenty-four hours and was sad to report I couldn't kill people with looks alone.

I decide it's time to switch to pure water at this point and Bar Girl only throws a quick "Party Pooper" in my general direction.

"Yeah, that sounds really great," I let her know, which brings a beaming smile to her glossy lips.

"Then leave it all to me!" She declares dramatically and those threatening stars are hiding in her vision once again. I figure she's not going to remember much in the morning so it doesn't bother me whatever she wants me to leave to her. I spend the rest of the early morning trying to keep her from wrestling me into a hug or hopping the bar for more drinks. I even manage to wrangle her room number and escort her back just as the sun starts to rise.

"Thank a lot, TaiTai," she smiles sincerely from where she's using my shoulder as a lean post. She denies it when I tell her it was nothing, and takes the opportunity to slip in a soft kiss to my cheek. We might be hitting against each other, but I truly appreciate the friendly gesture. It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time. Miyako doesn't count—her plan just brought on a lot more problems than it solved.

"I'll see you in the morning," she tells me softly, shutting the door with a final giggle. I don't get to tell her that it's already morning, that I'll probably all ready be gone by the time she finishes nursing that impending hangover.

Which also reminds me of the promise that awaits me later today. What fun!

I slink back into bed beside Yamato after another short walk. He grunts as I push him back to his own side, but hogs all the blankets in retaliation.

I just can't win these days.

Ever have two hangovers in less than twenty-four hours?

Guilty.

And it's worse when Yamato has a second gift for knowing things that will cause me pain. That's probably why he's talking ten decibels above normal speaking range, and throwing his one suitcase as much as possible.

"Yamato, if you don't cut it out I'm going to deck you. I mean that."

He's not shaking in his sneakers quite like I'd hoped. Instead he turns on the light and starts bouncing his butt on the bed to help stimulate the pain in my head. Why were we friends again?

"This is what you get for drinking without me!"

"You were sleeping!" I groan taking back the blankets he stole last night and using them as a shield to block out the Real World.

I was just getting back to the good part of my dreams, too…

"It's time to check out Taichi," Yamato persists while tugging at the sheets with both hands.

Let's do some math, okay? One Taichi weakened by drinks, plus sleep deprivation is _not _ _greater than _one Yamato who has had a very rest filled sleep in his single bed. So the fact that the equation ends up with me kissing the floor shouldn't be as surprising as it is. I hate you, math.

"Mrgh," I tell him.

"There's still a lot we have to do, Taichi. Unless you want to sleep on that street corner…"

I'm on my feet and dressed in less than five minutes. Yamato laughs his head off as I fumble with my jeans and end up greeting the floor headfirst. Again.

"We should probably find an Internet Café," I mention lamely as we make our way to the Main Entrance to check out. "Then we can find out where he's staying…"

"YOOOHHOOO!" Comes a voice that is far too cheery for the hour of the day. Especially one where I seem to be courting the worst migraine of my life.

Bar Girl doesn't seem at all phased. Her mahogany brown hair is curled to her face, her outfit pink but tidy, and her face is done up in a similar fashion as last night. She waves from her sitting perch on the Check Out Desk where I assume she was having an 'in depth' conversation with one of the ladies from last night.

"TaiTai!" She continues, which brings a snort to Yamato's nostrils.

"TaiTai? Friend of yours?"

"Don't even think it, man." I can _hear_ the cogs churning in his head, rusty as they are.

He's probably thinking, "So that's where you were all last night, you dog!"

"No. Just no."

"Tai!" Bar Girl obviously not liking the fact we hadn't moved any closer to her, took it upon herself to meet us. She gives Yamato one of her quirky lip-glossed smiles before pulling all her attention back to me.

"I've got it all worked out! Just like we discussed!" I don't really remember the two of us discussing anything that important last night. She's far too perky about the mention of those shenanigans. More than she should be. Although, I reason, she's probably used to that dull pain in her head every time she tries thinking.

That was the hangover thinking.

Wait, "Got what worked out?"

She giggles like I just told an inside joke. "Everything. Plane tickets, housing, everything!"

"Uhm…"

Her eyes take a sudden sharp turn to them and I'm reminded why I lived in fear of my mother for the majority of my life. "You _were_ listening, weren't you?"

"Oh… Yeah. I was totally listening!"

"With Little Tai?"

"I was listening SO intently that I just need a little refresher course."

"For Little Tai?"

Yamato doesn't like to be ignored, if that weren't obvious.

Bar Girl doesn't seem to mind our background commentary, or the fact that I made no sense. Instead she smiles and feels happy to oblige me. Not Little Tai, Yamato!

"You're going to work for me the next two months," she states matter-of-factly. I believe there's a, "I always get what I want," subtext to be found.

"Wait, wait, wait! Our tickets are for _two weeks_ from now, crazy lady! I also have band practice to get to. I'm already keeping the group down by being here _now_! And who the fuck are you?"

"Is he always this demanding?" Bar Girls purses her lips in my direction. I can't choose between the lesser of two evils, simply because I think both stand an admirable cause for my pain.

But I've known Yamato longer.

"So everything went well, right?" Bar Girl questions as we huddle—I most definitely mean that, too—into the back seat of her Flamingo Pink VW Beetle. Two grown men should never be subjected to this kind of torment above all when both have to take the back seat to avoid squishing her Love Bears. It doesn't take long until I realize that I'm Yagami Taichi. This torment is just another chapter in my all ready hectic, but short life.

Bar Girl flips back her brown hair and throws on a pair of the most glittering spectacles I have ever been greeted with. The color? Another shade of pink. It also hits me that all those death glares I had been sending Yamato all yesterday were not ineffective. The blonde was simply absorbing the energy for an event much like this one. My body can literally feel the icy grip of oblivion tighten over my shoulder.

"I'll just take that as a 'yes'!" laughs the girl whose internal chemistry I try really hard not to question. She puts the car into ignition and drives away from the Airport where Yamato and I had to exchange our tickets for a later date in time. Bar Girl even called ahead to "make the process easier." I should probably ask for her actual name since I'll be forced to see her for a while, but I'm afraid she might have announced it last night. I don't like the idea of crashing in a horrible pink accident just because she doesn't like the fact I didn't listen to her.

"Psst! Why the fuck are we doing this?" Yamato finally whispers half an hour into the ride. Bar Girl doesn't seem to acknowledge him so I take the hint she's not bothered about the harsh voices in her back seat. In fact she's started singing along with the radio and I half expect dogs to pick up on the frequency.

Yamato matches my wince. "She's housing us for two months, paying for the penalty, _and _giving us pay. We need to pay Miyako back somehow... Do you know the difference between Yen to USD is?"

"No. Do you?"

"It's more than Yen," I tell him because he raises a very good point about my knowledge. "I just quit my job. This is a great opportunity…"

Yamato snorts, "You just don't have the balls to stand up to the Princess. You're probably going to wuss out on Izumi, too."

Did I miss the memo about "Pick Up On Embarrassing Taichi Factoids Day?"

"Plus I have a band, _TaiTai_."

"Did Youichiro's parents pay the electric bill this month?"

"…They might next month.

"Besides isn't this against your plans?" I notice the pointed look he gives our driver.

"First of all, get rid of all _those_ thoughts. There's nothing going on. Besides I was thinking once we get a little settled in we could use the internet to contact Koushirou and meet up with him."

"You mean you have less of a chance of wussing out."

Dammit.

"Which reminds me I should call Hikari and tell her to let mom and dad know I won't be home for a while…" We convinced them this was just a "Friendly Visit" to see a College associate. Which technically it is, if you forget about all the little hidden agendas. Oh, and the fact that Koushirou doesn't have any clue. SURPRISE!

"Hey Taichi, what's that sign up there say?" Yamato asks me with a frown. I adjust my seat belt to get a better look at it. There's a giant blue sign that doesn't look quite like all the other highway markers we've seen thus far.

"…Connecticut…"

"Welcomes You!" Bar Girl finishes for me. "Hm? Is something wrong?" She can probably see our white faces in the rear view mirror.

"TAICHI?" Guess whose still not over their hangover? If the answer is 'you,' then you can give yourself a pat on the back.

"…Why aren't we in New York?" I finally get enough saliva to form the question.

"Silly, that's because I live here!"

…

"So why were you in New York?" Yamato finally decides to jump in. I'm surprised he's able to keep his voice down quite so well. I'm still experiencing that feeling of being one foot in the darkness, though.

"I always stay at my parents hotel when I work in New York," she explains without looking at all output by our reactions. "Why? Is there something important there?"

I bite my tongue to keep the name from forming in the air. Instead I watch out the rear window as the distance between us and the sign grows. We're much farther from that questionable corner, but there's just as much difference between Koushirou and I now. Give or take some emotions.

"You can find love in Connecticut just as much as you can in New York!"

"Why are you looking at _me_?"

I don't know quite what I was expecting when Bar Girl stops the car. Maybe a nice house, or a luxurious mansion with winding driveways American Television always alludes to. Maybe even an empiric-like hotel or cheap apartment building. All of these things would have seemed appropriate in comparison to the shack we were now stretching outside of.

Yes, a shack. Bar Girl presses some keys to lock her car then tilts her head as though we shouldn't be so lost about our surroundings.

Let me explain: The shack is a rather rusty color of brown and stale gray. At least it looks like a shack, but you have to climb up the crummiest looking steps to reach the entrance, which is covered by a wilting canopy. I'm fairly certain this isn't where Bar Girl lives, but I don't know any other reason _why _we would be here.

Also, here seems to include boats. There's a whole garden of vessels just sitting in the gravel lot. The best looking one is a Ferry-type that's painted all white and trimmed green. It has two decks, with the upper one mostly exposed to the outside, but covered by another canopy—completely green. The Ferryboat is attached to the only dock at this 'harbor,' and even though it's in the water I have a hard time believing it can actually function in what I can only deem as a 'stream.'

Bar Girl must have caught me starring because she mentions, "We're usually on the boat, but clients don't request it during the winter." She must have also taken the hint that I didn't believe her; "It's low tide right now!"

After those pleasantries she ushers us up the steps of 'the shack' with a shooing noise while letting us know all about how we're going to like our stay. After the door is even more stairs meshed in green carpet (for someone like Bar Girl, it confounds me how it's not all in pink).

Yamato reaches the door first and holds it open for the two of us. Just as I walk by I think I hear him muttering, "Ta…chi…ka….wa…" and realize he must be reading the company plate.

"This is where all the technie junk goes on behind the scenes," Bar Girl sweeps her hands out enthusiastically to the space we're now occupying. One of the "technie junk" guys scowls through his glasses having been distracted from his reading materials, but quickly goes back to ignoring our presence. He's probably used to it by now, but Bar Girl uses her trademark pout to exemplify her disdain. Not that he's even paying attention anymore.

Wait, Tachikawa?

Now that I think about it…

BOOM!

Have you ever been treated to the sound a computer makes when it hits the floor? Well, usually it _isn't _followed by a rather scandalized, "Taichi?"

This actually isn't the most confounding part of my day.

"Hey Izumi," Yamato greets sounding far too relaxed in this situation.

"Taichi?"

"Uhm… Yeah. Taichi. Me." Although I kind of wish I wasn't at this point.

DONE! Wheeeee! I almost didn't continue since people don't seem to be reading my Taishirou's. It got frustrating not knowing what people didn't like about them :/ Then I got favorites and wasn't sure why people liked this story! But then I realized all that matters is that I like writing the story, I love this pairing, I want to finish, and that hopefully people are reading :D So here's about 15 pages in Microsoft Word! Personal best? Uh, hell yes! It also helps there's a snow day XD

Also I don't know why there's so much drinking. The characters write themselves, really. If the drinking parts sound wrong to you, then you're more likely to know than I am. I've never voluntarily touched alcohol. All this writing is from research, watching my family drink (one of my sister has a worse tolerance than Taichi, and she's totally done the backwards thing before), and things I've observed at work. This all equals out to me not knowing much at all…

And thanks Zeo1Fan for telling me you like this story and kicking my ass to write the chapter :)


	5. Because I'm Worth It! Or Not

A/N: Apologies! This chapter was done mostly in April, finished last month at work, and finally edited immensely! This would have been done sooner, but then I'd have to stop being lazy and let go of work and a social life. Uhm…

So with less ado!

XD

"Taichi?" I might have broken Koushirou.

Of course that doesn't matter so much right now because I'm slightly more interested in these mixed feelings I have towards the ruined computer. On one hand I can sympathize about an unwanted meeting with the floor. I've been subjected to that fate more times today than I would rather prefer. This completely conflicts with my elation that after many miles, far too much money, and years of trying I have effectively amputated Koushirou from one of his digital appendages.

I'd like to mark this journey as a huge success! Usually, when one of his stops working I give a few helpful whaps (which he protests to), and it starts all over again. This time I don't think it will even turn on. And that's totally not my fault!

So, all right, I'm really just distracting myself from all the other thoughts that could be occurring to me. For instance: Koushirou is in Connecticut, when he clearly said he was staying in New York. Koushirou isn't working for a Miss Mimi Tachikawa's parents. I wasn't successful on my plan of procrastination. Koushirou isn't hugging me out of happiness upon seeing my face; he's a-dropping-computers.

Although, actually, the last part makes me happier than it probably should.

Bar Girl—and I'm highly suspecting that's not who she is at this point—steps over the mangled wires, chips, and shattered glass to tug on Koushirou's arm. She gives us the warmest smile while explaining, "And this is our new computer technician. We just imported him all the way from Japan! Oh, silly me, you're from Japan, too, right?"

She giggles as though everything she's just done and said didn't make those awkward butterflies extremely jittery. I rationalize that I should feel better since I realized she used 'import' wrong. Does Koushirou like them dumb?

Mimi's still beaming a ridiculous amount while holding Koushirou's arm against her chest. That's about when he realizes I'm not the only person in the room (damn), and gives her the most pronounced glare the guy has ever shown. She also gives him this Deep Meaning kind of gaze. I can't deny the odd connection that's going on between them. Koushirou's never looked at a girl that long, either, and he actually has to tilt his head up to look her in the eyes. I'd probably be laughing if I weren't so pissed off about it.

Yamato gives me a quick pinch at this point. Probably to remind me that growling isn't proper etiquette in a working environment. Especially not when you're probably on the verge of tearing the face off your somewhat future employer.

"Why's he doing Lamaze Breathing?" The blue haired guy, whose been watching our little encounter since the computer crashed, decides to chime in. I don't think I'm going to like him.

Whatever form of communication that's been going on between Mimi and Koushirou seems to end about then. The brunette giggles, at what I'm not so certain of, before ruffling the shock of red hair on Koushirou's head. That's usually what _I _do, missy.

"Now that I think about it, do you two know each other?" She does this really great impression of a deer stuck in headlights, except with its hoof against its mouth. Maybe I'm actually thinking of Satan?

"We attended university together…" Koushirou explains. He's not panting in the way I imagined our first encounter, but at least he's speechless. Actually, that's probably a bad thing.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Yamato points out the lack of himself in the conversation. I think, for the first time ever, I wouldn't mind if someone shown the Limelight his way.

"Chopped liver is actually a vital part of a person's diet," Book Guy throws in. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Yamato give a very pointed, "Is that so?" look. I don't think he really cares, but it's attention all the same.

"Oh! What a silly coincidence!" It's not silly, but it is a heck of a coincidence. Good for you, Mimi! You've finally gotten something partially right!

"Why are you present in America?" Koushirou finally turns back to me with a similar impression to the giddy woman's. Minus the giddy part. And the demon/hoof thing.

That's a great point he raises, though. I've been asking that question even before I got thrown on the plane. Of course then it was: "What's the point of going?" Now it's starting to persist an answer I guess.

The Tachikawa Heiress is much better at throwing herself full force into a conversation than either of us.

"They're looking for love!" She laughs into her manicured fingers politely. This is something else that doesn't compute into Koushirou Format, because he blinks at me owlishly. "Oh no, I'm sorry! _Yamato's _looking for love. Taichi's just being a dear friend!"

Oops.

"Wait a min—!"

Before the annoyed blond in the room can get more of his frustration out, I clamp a hand over his big fat mouth. I don't even remove it when he starts nibbling and licking my palm.

Koushirou's probably used to this interaction by now, because he gives off this really warm half grin that he usually pastes on when thinking back on good memories. Maybe I was a little wrong for being so annoyed before. I'd probably react in a similar way if given the same shock treatment. Except I'd probably jump him when it was over. That's a major character difference.

"Uh, heh. Heh. Why don't you continue showing us around?" Mimi claps her hands happily, Book Guy goes back to his books, Koushirou still looks slightly confused but happier, and Yamato's probably starting to draw blood at this point. Why did I think this was going to be a bad day?

:/

So after pointedly telling everyone about our little fabricated adventure—effectively letting Yamato know that if he spoiled any of this right now I was going to do something very not nice to his bowels—we got the grand tour of the Shack.

Which was actually the room we had been stationed in, anyway. There were about three other offices in the place, but the ever humble Tachikawa Catering Company just needed three desks, two phone lines, and a couple of people to take them.

The phones and bookkeeping is where Book Guy—I'm sorry Jyou Kido—where Jyou comes in. He's an International Medical Student from Japan at Yale, but commutes an hour to work since the money apparently really helps. He also gets to study when things are quiet. Jyou's pretty smart, but most of the time he has his nose in a textbook, Mimi helpfully points out. Which as it turns out _isn't_ an admirable quality.

Koushirou's also on the phones (I almost got hit for laughing so hard), but he mostly just installs software and works on all things Internet related.

There's only one window, about three quarters the size of the wall that boasts the perfect image of the boat outside including the surrounding trees and a large bridge in the distance. I'm assuming it's a pretty sight when the trees aren't bare.

The rest of the staff, Mimi tells us, are usually on call for whenever some event is made. That's basically where I come in as their "fill-in bartender." Their last one just eloped and doesn't plan on coming back soon with a baby on the way, but she was scheduled for the next couple of months. Apparently you can't find good Bartenders in America that quickly.

Koushirou doesn't chastise me about accepting offers from strangers, but I guess he's known Mimi's persuasiveness long enough to understand anyone will hop in her van. Or rather, Flamingo Pink Beetle.

"And I mainly handle the rest!" Mimi chirps. "Oh, well, not really! Koushirou and Jyou help out a lot, too!" I sourly note this demands another arm squeeze. "Plus Sora does the rest of the preparations in our kitchen!"

"Sora?" Yamato echoes. "Is everyone Japanese here?" I have to say for Yamato's sake that's pretty lucky. Then again he's been getting lucky a lot this trip (pun fully intended).

"Well, this _is_ an authentic Japanese Cuisine Catering Company," though I think she really meant to go with a simpler answer of "DUH!"

"What the hell kind of difference does that make?"

"The 'authentic' kind. Sheesh Yama, lighten up! You're totally killing the mood!"

"What mood? I'm in a foreign country with insane people doing the most insane thing in my life! That _is_ the mood!"

Couldn't have put it better myself.

Mimi just rolls her eyes while Jyou pipes over from his chair, "I'm not insane! I'm the responsible one around here!"

"Yeah, thanks Jyou," Yamato grounds out between clenched teeth. I wonder if he hopes it were I being smashed in there, or maybe Mimi, or Jyou.

"Not a problem," Jyou replies fixing his spectacles in a proud gesture. He obviously doesn't speak Yamato, but I don't feel much like translating these days.

Usually I have a hard enough time understanding Koushirou in my own head, but he hasn't said much since our earlier transactions. In fact he's kind of made himself busy with one of the computers in the corner. His way of keeping out of trouble or just social interactions. Besides, he probably doesn't know how to process the fact that he just destroyed a computer and that Mimi isn't even batting an eye about it.

Koushirou…

He's even better looking than I remembered. His hair's a little longer so it actually curls into his cheeks. You can see the contrast better in comparison to his eyes, now where his bangs just barely reach his drawn out lashes. It's both shocking and familiar all at the same time. Two extremes meeting in an odd form of harmony that strangely defines everything he seems to be, everything he actually is, and everything he'll probably turn out to be.

I also note the rings under his eyes have calmed down a bit since the last time I saw him. He must be sleeping better here—what with the change in hours. Plus he can't stay up on the computer all night and function at work…At least that's how I'm taking it.

His eyes are still the impossibly wide black slits that sparkle with obscene intellect and character. He's probably assessing this whole situation right now and determining just what to say and exactly how to go about it. That, or he is actually engrossed in some program all ready. He's always been more of a thinker than a doer. Maybe that's why we compliment each other so well. He thinks too much about the things that will probably go wrong, and I think too little about the consequences. Once again, I've proven that.

But God he's, "Beautiful…"

"She _is_ a beauty, isn't she?" Mimi slaps the broad of my back, which doesn't hurt considering the delicate nature of her fingers. She's probably about as dangerous—physically—as Koushirou. It's also at this point I notice Koushirou's desk is conveniently stationed in front of the giant window, thus Mimi takes the suspicion off my watching the redhead into starring at boats.

I kind of have to wonder what kind of expression I must have been wearing…

"Uhm, yeah. Beauty…" I agree with her because it is a gorgeous ferry, and also because it kind of subtracts from the fire burning on my cheeks. I watch Koushirou modestly look over his shoulder, since even if he knew I was starring he'd be hard pressed to believe it was at _him._

The ever-friendly heiress leans her head against my shoulders and squeezes the other one, "Want to go for a tour?" She grins. Her lips tug in the opposite direction when her heels make a shuddering _crunch _noise. "I'll get someone to clean this up," she assures us with her cell phone already making the call.

O_0

Yamato is starring. And starring. And starring.

"What?" I finally hiss out of the corner of my mouth, watching my steps on the wooden dock so that I don't slip on a patch of ice and greet the winter waters. That's all I need to end my day, or probably even my life. Happy thoughts!

Somehow the stupid blond finds it appropriate to grab my shoulders and tug me against his chest; a headlock. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Are you stupid?" He spits in my ear harshly, and then gives a meaningful glance back toward the shack. "Izumi's right _there,"_ he points. Well, not literally since that would probably distract Mimi from her humming.

"But…" I loose my train of thought when he imitates a slicer by practically ripping my neck in half. "You asshole!" I shout, rubbing the sore ring forming above my collarbone after successfully wrestling out of his grip.

Yamato doesn't appear apologetic when he tells me, "This is God saying, 'go for it, dumbass!'"

"Really? Because I kind of think he's trying to say, 'You're screwed.' Maybe we're on different frequencies?"

"You know, Joan of Arc was said to hear the voice of God. Although it's generally believed that she was just batty."

Yamato rolls his eyebrows skyward. I think he's wondering about his choice of companions right about now. Me too, buddy. Me too.

"_Thanks Jyou_…"

"Don't mention it!" He says proudly and I neglect to tell the blue haired dork that he probably won't.

"My father bought this yacht as a graduation present," Mimi explains as she steps over the hump in the doorway. She keeps the glass door open and beckons Jyou, Yamato, and I to follow.

"Welcome to the Princess Mimi!" She greets once we're all tucked inside the narrow hallway. If you didn't guess the name of her boat before, then you obviously haven't been paying much attention to anything.

"Graduation… from Elementary School?" Yamato wonders over his left shoulder, which causes Jyou to hiss back at him.

"I'll have you know Miss Mimi graduated from a prestigious University!" He defends.

"Priss Menstruation School? My mom went there, too."

…"Hey!"

At the back of the line, I run my hands over the bumps and grooves of the ship's interior. It's a really soft mahogany color with brass plates screwed in to claim which door leads where. To my right is a niche with three doors labeled Ladies, Closet, and Seaman… I didn't say they were brilliant signs.

I did, however, mention that the hallway was narrow. And that's no exaggeration. The only way to fit more than one body through is to crawl against the wall—like the way they do it in action movies. Only this isn't an action movie (or any movie, because usually there's a happy ending in those), but luckily Jyou and Yamato are clawing at each other to get through and I'm perfectly fine to let them battle it out. I've had enough fighting with Yamato in the last 48 hours and not nearly enough sleep to stomach it all.

Stomach. I haven't eaten in a while, either.

"Move over, I'm trying to get through!"

"Yeah, so am I! OW! You did not just elbow me, asshole!"

"Children, children!" Mimi's voice calls from around the corner where I can't see her through the wooden walls or bobbing yellow and blue heads in front of me. I'm just glad it's not me this time that's getting chastised.

I ignore the banter ahead of me and focus more on the individual doors. It tunes them out and keeps my head occupied with words that have very little to do with Koushirou.

Jeez, what a fix…

Now, not many people have ever heard the sound a knife makes when it hits hard wood (haha!...Ouch!), but you'll hear it described in novels as a splinter. In reality it sounds nothing like that, though it does cause a lot of them.

"Shit!" Yamato and I yelp at the same time. Jyou, undeterred, takes his distraction and scampers down the short rest of the hall. My eyes take in the blade—because that's what it is. A giant fucking blade has wedged itself into the wall, just before it could crack an 8 X 11 foot mirror. What was with these people and size, anyway?

Yamato on the other side of the fucking blade primps his hair using the barely scandalized speculum, fixes himself a steady glare and then turns it in the opposite direction. "What the fuck, lady?"

The door against the right wall is opened and inside is a metal island with two metal shelves towered over it employed by items whose names I wouldn't even dream of knowing. On one wall is a really tall, really big metal fridge (and I restrain from thinking of it as the fucking metal fridge). There's a row of sinks on its left and a hanging microwave, and another closet to its right. I can't read the label since there's a multi-colored curtain is scrunched in the corner over it. A wooden counter top spreads out from the closet in our direction with chrome colored shelves beneath it and above. For utensils, I guess. Normally where you would be able to look over the counter, there's a fanned looking cover going along it. Not the greatest of views, mind.

When I peek over the edge from my side of the door, I can see another counter made of chrome and fixed with matching drawers above, and below. There's also a bunch of equipment that I don't recognize stacked in the corner that looks, well, _necessary?_ Since it is a kitchen, I assume, those must be stoves—and then the red glowing lights must mean they're working.

In the middle of the kitchen is a very attractive brunette. She comes up about half the size of the refrigerator, tall, but not anywhere near as wide. Okay, so her figure is blocked by the chef's coat she's wearing and her pretty features are marred with an aggressive scowl but I can still admire her appeal. She obviously isn't as happy to have our company, as she should be. Talk about ungrateful.

"I'm trying to cook, so please _shut up_!" Although her face appears deadly, her voice is awfully calm. And I do mean the word awful.

"We were invited to take a tour!"

"I'm working," she retorts, stepping out the crowded kitchen space to retrieve her throwing blade. She glares at Yamato first, and then turns her amber eyes on me intently.

_Of course, _I can't help but think.

"I would appreciate it if you kept the noise to a minimum." With her instructions left in my capable hands, she stomps back into the kitchen, closing the door behind plated as "Galley."

"What's with you guys?" Jyou calls back from the space beyond. As though he hadn't almost been picked off by the fucking blade.

"S-she-demon!" Yamato accuses the door.

Mimi bounces around the corner, her eyes first taking in the missing piece of wall, and then fixing an odd huff towards the galley. "Sora must be working."

"Hadn't guessed," I mutter.

"She can be really uptight when she needs to get things done," the heiress scowls, for the first time not looking all that happy about the situation. My insides tickle: finally!

"But you know the stuffy types!" Mimi giggles, clapping her hands together and just as quickly forgetting about the event. I want her mentality!

The door throws itself back open, and the chef now known as Sora glares down the three of us. "How long do you need to tour the door way?"

"Well, it is a pretty door!" Mimi giggles. "And this was a pretty wall until somebody got their knickers in a bunch!" Mimi sings the last part like a child would to bother an already troubled classmate.

Sora's face falls from its only emotion; pissed; and adopts an apologetic frown. It looks better on her—like I was sure one of Mimi's slinky dresses would, too.

"I'll get it fixed." Calmer Sora says.

"No worries, I'll get Jyou to do it later!"

Blue hair turns the corner into our conversation, "What am I doing later?"

Sora's mood changes—again—from apologetic to frustrated. "How am I supposed to cook when no one will shut up!"

"Get off the rag," Yamato suggests. Silently, I agree. Sora's a really pretty girl, but her mood was nothing like her features. Sora doesn't appreciate his incentive as much as I do and slams the door once more.

Mimi, with her impeccable powers of un-pertubedness, just giggles into her hands and beckons my friend and I to follow her once again.

Outside of the hall way is an oddly shaped dining room (at least she told us it was the dining room). The scrunched folds I saw in the kitchen are reflected out here as well—the buffet table Mimi points out. The open space has teal carpeting out to the slanted windows. The rest of the room is brightened by natural lighting since the whole boat seems to be made out of windows, anyway. A door at the stern even opens to the front of the boat, where a nice breeze causes Jyou to sneeze ("I've got allergies!").

Yamato was too distracted the first half of the tour with his un-liking of Sora to even make a retort of any kind.

A staircase in the dining area leads up to more open space with a tiled dance floor, more windows, brown couches in the far corners, and a bar just at the left of the stairs. The Captain's Cabin, as pronounced by the gold plate, can be accessed on either side of the bar. Mimi takes care to show me where the glasses are stored (in a closet before the Cabin conveniently marked Closet). She also notes where most of the alcohol, accompaniments, and sodas are and how most of her employees chose to work before.

We then follow her onto the back deck through some glass doors (in between the really funky looking brown sofas). She throws her hands over to where white folding chairs are stacked in all the corners and informs us of how the set-up normally takes place, with cocktail tables, and where guests were most likely to sit and mingle.

In the middle of her ramblings I raise my hand. "May I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, Yes! They're down the stairs, through the main door, and on your right!" She tells me happily, pointing manicured fingers towards the stairs behind us.

"What are you, crazy?" _Jyou_ screeches. "The boat won't be operational for another week. We can't just use the facilities! That's really unsanitary!"

Mimi just huffs in his direction, sporting her own-patented pout. For a second I even think the guy might budge. He doesn't. Jyou might be a few apples short of an orchard, but it's nice to know the crazies on my side.

"It's not a big deal," I tell them with a quick shrug. "I'll just use the one back at the shack." They give me a few looks for that one until I correct myself.

"Well, all right," Mimi lets out a long-suffering sigh. The lady just doesn't like to be opposed it seems…More work for me. Yay…She lists off a few directions in where I can find the bathrooms back at the "Main Building," while swooshing me away with a couple waves of her hand.

"Don't forget to wash your hands, Taichi!" Jyou calls behind me, "You don't want to be disease riddled or something!"

"Yeah, nobody likes a dirty hooker!" Yamato pipes up. At this point I take off down the back stairs, which means conveniently that I don't have tip toe past Knife-Freak.

:}

I didn't want to be a diseased riddled hooker, though I did think long and hard on the subject. If I refused to wash my hands, wouldn't that just ruin Jyou's day? Then again I wasn't much of a brat anymore where dirt (and other natural sources) were my friends. Besides if Jyou didn't know about my contaminated fingers then the point was completely void.

Resignedly, I wash my hands in the grummy sink, storing his bio-phobia _whatever _away for another day. I have months to get on his nerves—and I'm Taichi. These things happen naturally.

When I exit (because I didn't just lie about needing to pee), I have to wonder why Mimi even wasted her breath on directions. The bathroom is on the same level of the shack as the office—and just barely smaller. Right outside the door is another office, but it's closed… not that I tried to enter, or anything. The hallway isn't so vast, either, that I can't see the flickering light from Tachikawa Catering. Just as I contemplated not being hygienic for a while, I was far less compliable to move.

Koushirou was in there. The guy I more than liked, and whose existence made me want to throw up—but in a good way!

…

Love doesn't make sense, okay?

I take a deep breath, bracing my emotions for impact. Maybe this really was God's way of saying, "Get the hell on with it, you blockhead!"

And if God was telling me to do something, I probably wasn't going to end up heartbroken, alone, and cursing the day I was dumped by my first-ever-gay-crush.

Note: Probably.

But I'm here, so I'll suck it up and take the punch no matter the results (or truthfully I just don't have the money to hightail it back to Japan). I'm sure this "God" guy is just fucking with me, and the point is driven home when I sweep back into the Closet-Office to discover Koushirou asleep with his arms crossed over his face on the desk.

I think shortly about making my get-away and telling Yamato some crap story about how he rejected me and we should really be getting on our way now! But as much as my brain is telling me to run in the other direction, my feet push forward until I'm sitting on the side of his desk, fingers hovering over red hair and I'm restraining myself from touching him—because it's far too tempting to let a sleeping Koushirou lie.

I can't leave not knowing, yet I don't want to know; I can't beat the stubbornness out of my heart. We've waited too long and this is too far out of proportions to just give up with my tail between my legs.

And yeah, it helps too knowing Hikari will kick my ass and tell everyone I'm her wussy older brother.

"Ah, geez…" The sound of my voice scares even me. I hadn't even realized I'd spoken out loud, or sounded so…defeated…

"Taichi?" Again, I jump, this time to my feet and clutching my fingers to my chest.

Koushirou rubs his eyes and regards me with a sleepy stare. For a moment he doesn't seem to register any other emotion towards me until a bleary, soft smile creeps over his tired lips.

"I thought you might have been a dream," he informs me in a way that makes me wonder if he misused the word nightmare.

"Nah, it's me." There's enough blood in my head, and pumping through my heart to assure me I'm very real. I do have to wonder if Koushirou's as solid as I am… He's never been normal in any aspect.

Koushirou smiles brighter and my heart, still pounding an excess of blood, leaps into my throat. I've never been this nervous around anyone before. Not even with Knife-Freak and her big fucking blade!

"Are you sure?" He teases, black eye glinting in my direction.

Dear God, you can kill me _now_ if you want!

"Yup! Definitely flesh and blood!" I yelp to prove my point after scratching my skin with my nails. "Remind me to get them cut," I tell Koushirou while examining the tips of my fingers.

He chuckles lightly, "You're supposed to pinch _me_."

"Oh," I grin. "I can do that!"

Koushirou's already wide eyes grow when I move to lean over his desk, fingers making pincer motions towards his skin. He jumps away from my assault, knocking his chair into the monitor (which makes a sickening sound). He doesn't say anything about the possibly damaged electronics and instead backs his way over to the unnecessarily wide window. For a second I fear he might break that, too, then plummet to his death. Or sprained ankle; we're not that far up.

He gives a noise—what I don't remember, but it was just enough to encourage me to continue after him. Just as my fingers go to squeeze his pale flesh I hear him call, "Taichi!"

It wasn't a panicked voice, nor a breathy one—not even remotely flirtatious. Just my name slipping off his tongue with a side of mirth he doesn't order very often. His eyes lock into mine, smiling the way you'd imagine someone after winning the Japanese Lottery… The setting sun emphasizes his softened fiery features, brining out his beauty even more and it dries my throat to know I made him this way. Me, Dime-a-Dozen Taichi.

Suddenly I'm on him—dry lips against moist temptation, nibbling them to release their natural horde. His fists collide like mountains of rocks—rather pebbles—against my back before his tense body relaxes. His fingers soothe over the landslide from earlier and we're both feeling the years of pent up frustration filter through every pore.

"Taichi!" Koushirou calls my name desperately. His fingers run down the side of my neck, tugging us closer by the collar of my sweater. "I need you…

"…To listen to me!" He finishes sternly.

Hah. My fantasies normally don't include activities where listening occurs. Unless it's listening to Koushirou's pleasant—

Nevermind.

"Are you okay?" Koushirou pushes off the window, lips worried instead of swollen kissed. I shake off the remnants of the daydream, realizing that probably wasn't the right action when Koushirou's wondering about my health.

"Yeah. I'm perfect. Don't worry about it." I'm still standing like an idiot with my mouth open and fingers acting like claws. I give him the best grin I can muster, but it doesn't seem to calm his inquiries.

"Are you certain?" Koushirou asks me with an odd tilt to his head. His lips pull down into a tight frown, and man he looks better with a smile!

Besides the fact that I feel like throwing up still, "I'm good. Why?"

The lines on his mouth pull tighter, while my heart sinks as deep as his frown. He has no idea, does he? Not one single clue. "No particular reason. It's only that you don't seem so…exuberant." Oh, well…

"Because I love you and don't want to lose you to some bimbo in a tight pink dress." That was what I told him in my head. Out loud I was still having trouble with the word, "Because…"

"I guess I'm just tired is all. Jet Lag."

Koushirou's shoulder slump slightly more forward in a signature pose that he's close to giving up. He just can't seem to get his point thick enough to penetrate my skull.

Haha, _thick._

"It's not a wrong situation, per say. You just don't sound like…_Taichi_…"

That's probably because I'm sitting in this cramped room with you miles away from where either of us is supposed to be—oceans, actually—on the verge of ruining three years worth of friendship. Oh, and the fact that I'm heels over fucking head for you might factor in somewhere.

It occurs to me for the hundredth time that I'm not psychic and neither is anyone else (unless you count that damned stewardess), so he can't actually understand what I'm thinking. Figures, too, because this would be much easier to convey without words.

"But I suppose it's still admirable, despite the case," Koushirou mentions with this adorable flick of his lips. My heart's beating rapidly—or maybe it's just that my whole body is beating because I feel even my arms are pulsing. Everything feels sore and clenched, but I can't say I hate it…

"I'm glad I could see you for whatever reason," he continues without acknowledging the way my body is throbbing along to his voice. His fingers slide over the collar of my shirt where they've been resting all this time. I bite my tongue against a groan when a stray finger brushes my skin, sensitive in my situation. It would be perfect if he could just confess his feelings for me now and we could move on from this insane friends—not friends—fuck I want more stage.

Slowly his fingers find their way back to his sides, and as he leans back against the glass with a sweetly innocent smile I kind of wish it _would_ shatter so _something_ would know how _I_ feel.

Of course all I get is: "I've missed you."

Stop.

Stop it.

JUST STOP—

How does he do that? Every time he talks, I still find a way to sit on the edge of my seat for that confession that will never come. Koushirou doesn't have the intention, but it's still so disappointing. Especially when he comes up with something so sweet and so cruel with an equally sincere smile. It's almost as though we _should_ be sitting right here—but we also know that's not true.

He lied to me. _He LIED to ME!_

He doesn't feel anything. He can get up in the morning without wondering what it'd be like if I had been next to him the whole night. He can walk down the street without ever thinking, "Oh! Taichi would look splendid in that attire! He would assuredly like this! I wish Taichi were here right now with something witty to say… I wonder what he is up to at this moment in time…" He can ride a plane to another country and pick up life as though he hadn't just left mine…

Three weeks without a word. No face, only pictures. No voices, only memories. No words, just a "by the way!" message riddled with after thoughts and unfeeling necessities.

I thought this was all over when I left the University. We joked around the last day, promised multiple visits, but really I knew it was all empty. Why would he want me when he had a brighter future with his beloved Internet?

So, I never meant to see him again. When it was all finally over I let out the longest sigh of relief. If I never heard a single breath of Koushirou's again my heart could forget. I believed that… I had to. For my mind, for my health, and for my future. If he could forget me, why couldn't I, him?

But I didn't. Five minutes home I was already sick of the idea. It was all so lonely… A life without Koushirou wasn't a place I wanted to live.

"Taichi… Are you sure you're not under the weather?"

"No, Koushirou. I'm fine, really. It's just that…"

And then the morning phone calls came. Frequently. At odd intervals. When I'd been in bed, when I couldn't sleep _because _I was waiting to hear about his day. Going online in hopes he might have sent me a link to some dumb website I could barely understand. When I closed my eyes, it didn't feel like he was too far-gone…

I didn't forget him like I planned.

So I'm not lying when I tilt a smile in his direction and say, "It's just that I really missed you, too."

_More than you could imagine. _

"Then there really must be something amiss," Koushirou observes but his eyes are shining. Even someone like Koushirou whose whole life is a serious undertone, he's a natural at smiling. I've thought that many times. Heck, I love to hear his geeky little laugh… It's been a while, too!

"Huh?" Is my intelligent reply since my concentration is all focused around the curve of his lips and the shape of his jaw line.

This only amuses Koushirou further (though I don't think he's guessed the real reason for my inattention). "Normally you would have jumped me by now."

Have I mentioned that I love him?

It should come as no surprise that when my heavier frame collides with the somewhat malnourished, and much smaller Koushirou's we both end up on the floor bemoaning cracked heads and laughing off the accompanying pain. I don't even mind that this is probably the twentieth time today I've ended up on the dirt unintentionally. Although it's undoubtedly my favorite.

We're laying on the ground, facing one another, with goofy grins like we're back in college—or more likely middle school. It really has been too long since I heard him laugh—it's nostalgic and warm. It might even be too long since he's laughed, too, because the sound of his voice cracking seems to cause even more uproarious laughter. And hearing someone mature like Koushirou finding himself hilarious is funny in it's own right.

He might even be more beautiful like this: hair mussed as though crafty fingers have teased it, neck exposed in the throes of his giggles, mouth cracked open—never mind, bad thoughts… Though the dipping sun is slowly fading away all visible light, making it difficult to make-out—uhm, make out anything specific.

Koushirou eventually sobers as he comes to realize I haven't been laughing along for a bit now. He doesn't stop smiling (I can actually feel it) when he lightly taps my shoulders, daring me to make some sort of move.

"Taichi?"

I could just kiss him.

"And you totally wussed out," Yamato summarizes quietly under his arm as he passes Mimi the requested bowl of mashed potatoes.

"If you told me our guests were Japanese I would have had the chefs prepare sushi!" Mrs. Tachikawa gushes as she slaps Yamato heartily on the thigh. He doesn't like the gesture about as much as he doesn't like me at this point.

I'm actually right there with him.

"I didn't wuss out," I deny under my breath. Although it's kind of mute at this point.

"What did you say, son?" Mr. Tachikawa asks, looking up from polishing his Nine Iron at the dining table.

"Nothing!" I cough into my glass of water, feeling quite uncomfortable at all the mirrored smiley faces in my direction.

"Don't be shy, dear!"

"She's right, son! You're practically family now!"

"Pass the salt, TaiTai!"

"And we'lll get you two to bed after dinner. You must be exhausted! In the morning we'll find some proper clothing… You know, Yama-kun you have such beautiful hair! My stylist would just _love_ to play with it. I could give you his number while you're in America!" Giant grin.

"No, that's more for Tai—YEOW!"

"Then I can teach you boys some real sports! …With real men…" Giant grin.

"After that we could start working on some training." Giant grin.

"I hate you so much, Yagami," although that last one may have been in my head.

D':

New Record: 17 Pages :)


	6. Rough Sailing From Here On Out

A/N: Sorry this took so long. It's been… A tough last two years and things are kind of calming down now~! The chapter would have been up a while ago, but the program freaked out or something and when I spent hours editing/writing, all of it got lost… But here it is now :')

:D

"Don t laugh."

"I-I won t!" Takeru promises, but he quickly apologizes before falling out of view. All that's left of him is an audience looking downward and his laughter flowing through the speakers on my end.

"And here I thought you were my favorite Ishida," I grunt, pulling the pink ruffled shirt over my head and into a pile on the far left. My naked chest (which I'm proud of really, I worked hard to get these muscles even if they aren't Yamato level!) must have been appealing because Miyako's image whistles, "Yeah baby!"

"It is pretty funny, Tai." My sister deadpans, just a hint of a smirk on her painted lips. I'm not sure what she's referring to.

I try not to grumble about conspiring idiots, but my message gets through anyway. After some fine bantering between the two trolls-women-and myself, Takeru finally recovers long enough to join us. This is after he loses to lack of control at seeing me shirtless. It's not that funny but I've stopped wondering what mental illness blond haired, blue-eyed Japanese suffer from.

"I'll be able to pay you back soon," I assure Miyako who waves it off.

"Whenever you can!" Her smile turns positively evil when a thought seems to physically strike her. "You could always throw in some interest if you'd like!"

"Interest?"

Takeru looks positively horrified by this idea and states just the same. Miyako swings an arm around his wide shoulders, teasing him to be a wimp.

"She wants pictures," Hikari lets me in without actually glancing back at the camera. She's watching World War Three wrestle its way off her sheets. Miyako shouts something about close-minded jerks before the blond's head pokes back into view.

"You going to be there when I get back?" I ask Takeru.

The humor over the line quickly drops. Even Hikari's half smile does a 180. The only sound I hear is Miyako coughing obnoxiously into her hand and Takeru awkwardly telling me, "We'll see," before excusing himself for a drink.

Was I missing something?

"I miss you, Tai…"

"I just met you, Miyako…"

"I'll see you when you get home," my sister says roughly, like she has a frog in her throat. A few seconds later the line freezes on Miyako and Hikari waving me off, then disappears.

_Weird._

Mimi pokes her head in with a brilliant smile. "Get plenty of sleep!" She cautions me before noticing the mountain of clothes slowly building on either side of my chair. She frowns at my fashion faux paus and looks about ready to berate my tact until she realizes none of those clothes are on my chest.

"Niiiicce TaiTai!" She compliments, actually turning red and pursing her lips. "It's a nice look for you!"

I just about mark this as a total win for the rest of my night before Mimi finds it appropriate to add, "Though it would be better for Yamato…"

:P

"We should get drinks this weekend."

"Mhm."

"'Cause you're like shipping out of here soon and everything, right?" The rest of the drone I don't really care to hear until he mentions, "I'm really gunna miss you, man!"

"You're going to miss your job when you break those," Ken points out, grabbing th case of All Purpose glasses from the energetic brunet.

Daisuke has not been put out by his friend's criticism and continues his energetic rants about our guy weekend.

"We can get strippers! Yamato likes strippers, right?"

"Everyone likes strippers," I add. "Except Jyou."

Yamato looks up from cutting lemons and limes over the mention of his and Jyou's names. I summarize the conversation for him. "That would be hookers," he reminds me. "Jyou doesn't like dirty hookers."

We're the only ones who laugh, but mainly because Ken's too serious and Daisuke doesn't actually speak Japanese. So I'm just going to blame it on the language barrier. Or it could be because nothing funny was actually said. I choose the former.

Ken piles the final blue rack on the side of the bar and claps invisible dust from his hands. "That should do it," he adds with a soft smile. "If you need anything else Taichi, just let me know."

Have I mentioned that I love Ken? Not romantically. When I brought it up the first time to Yamato about the splendid human creature that this kid happens to be, he snorted a lot and told Mimi to buy me a 'I Heart Nerds' shirt. She did. I buried it in my suitcase.

Ken is rather on the quiet side, so it s a great contrast whenever he and Daisuke are on the same shifts. One's mild; the other could chew your ear off like a starving hyena. Yamato pointed out it's just Koushirou and I: The Extreme Edition.

I don't know how to take that, honestly. Though seeing as how they're pretty buddy-buddy I'm willing to pretend it's a compliment. In some form.

"Don't you guys do any work?" Yamato sighs, dramatically. "Making the poor waiters stock your bar…" I really think he should have been an actor. That's a solo gig that isn't dependent on garages and electrical bills. And I'm pretty sure my friend has no qualms sleeping his way to the top.

"We do plenty of work!" I gasp. Daisuke jumps to the conclusion that I'm defending our honor or something as he throws his arms around my neck. His grin should honestly be illegal. "Ken asked to help. Because he cares. Unlike some people, who sit around cutting vegetables all afternoon at the bar to avoid…" I lower my voice: "Knife-Freaks!"

Koushirou's laugh lights my ears and I remember why I was having a good day until Yamato showed up.

"He's cutting fruits, Taichi!"

I shrug off Daisuke s arm and attempt to casually lean over the counter. Koushirou's adorable face greets mine by the edge. His smile feeds mine. "I'm pretty sure they grow on trees." I'm really just baiting him. It was a simple slip of the tongue; I know vegetables don't grow on trees, just like I know lemons and limes are fruits. But I also know Koushirou's more interested in correcting me than he is about setting up the speaker's for tonight's sha-bang.

"Botanically speaking fruits-"

"It's not fair if I can't understand you guys!" Daisuke pouts, jumping on my back as if that'll suddenly translate the conversation for him.

"Sorry about that," Koushirou apologizes, as sweet as ever. Then again it doesn't matter as much to him what classifies as a fruit or vegetable. Wait. No. It doesn't matter to me, either. Not the topic just the conversation...

"Good evening, all!" Mimi sweeps in, cheerful as always. Her hot pink cocktail gown fits about as well as O.J. Simpson's glove (my father was a fan), and sparkles. I was willing to bet there were actually tiny diamonds imbedded right into the fabric. Mimi rests my case when she asks all the assembled men what they think of her riveting, one-of-a-kind apparel.

"Gorgeous!"

"What did she say?!"

"Sensational!" I put in.

Koushirou jumps to his feet. I watch him excuse himself from the conversation by following a black cord into the captain's quarters. I can hear Mr. Tachikawa's solid, booming voice exuberantly discussing how to read the doppler radar. I imagine the captain placing his thick arms over Koushirou's smaller frame while the redhead loses to his manners when all he'd rather do is finish his work.

Plus, I'm pretty sure the redhead could build his own if he really wanted to.

"Well, that was rude!" Mimi pouts.

I can feel a twitch forming in my left eye. In the last few months I had to decipher the actual relationship between the heiress and my long time fucking crush. Sometimes they barely talked, like now. But then other instances found them chatting it up like high schoolers waiting for their prom dates.

It doesn't help my distaste, either, when Mimi prances around in her sexy clothes and shoves her cleavage in his reddened face. "Why," Yamato once asked, "did you want to?" I chose not to answer, but yes. If I had cleavage I would shove it in Koushirou's face as much as possible. _Because I like him_.

I can still remember the despondent look in Mimi's eyes the first time we met: _"I'm in love… He doesn't even know I exist…Absorbed in those stupid things."_ And Koushirou's e-mail… I can't really pretend it might not be mutual…

Still ranting Mimi protests, "He could have at least whistled!"

"He's busy," Yamato explains in a neutral tone. "He's got a whole sound system to fix before five."

Mimi's pout amplifies, but she stops complaining about Koushirou's tact. I attempt not to outwardly thank Yamato. I just remind myself to pour some whiskey into his water later tonight. He'll appreciate that. I'm sure.

Blue hair pokes up from the staircase and the Jyou attached greets our motley crew.

I fix a Sex on the Beach and water at Mimi's request. I remind her she shouldn't be driving under the influence because that would be bad, and that seems to remind her that she hates my living guts.

"Jyou's dropping me off at the club tonight! You can take Pinkie home!" Mimi informs me, handing over the keys to her pink death trap. She warns me about being careful and, "Give Sora a ride home, too! Thanks!"

My eye jerks. Sora and I haven't soothed over our differences from the first time I dropped paprika in her vanilla ice cream. No matter how sexual it sounds, it was nowhere near a pleasurable experience. In fact, I'm surprised I'm alive at this moment. With all (sexual) organs intact.

Jyou smiles apologetically. He understands because he has a brain. And a heart. "Good luck, Taichi!"

Mimi grabs his arm, beaming proudly as she waves us off. Jyou warns Koushirou that the boat'll be taking off soon and he nonchalantly agrees over Mr. Tachikawa's ramblings.

Mimi calls back up the stairs, "Take care guys! It's gunna be a rocky night!" Even she's aware. That's a bad sign.

D:

"Are you off after we dock?" A pretty brunette giggles, her fingers pulling on one of the cocktail napkins. One hand disappears into her purse.

"I have to help clean up," I tell her, which isn't a lie. I still catch Ken's sly smile in my direction from where he's clearing up plates at the bussing station set up at the end of the bar.

Her missing hand comes up with a pen and scribbles some numbers on the napkin. Her friend doesn't seem to care that she's preoccupied and tugs on her arm with an insistent, "We need to get seats!"

The woman smiles at me as though she can't hear the other at all and slides the ruined napkin over. "Call me when you get off, 'kay?" She winks, then frowns when she hears a soft groan.

"Maybe," I smile at her confused face. "But I kind of have to take care of someone later."

She nods, still a little concerned about the sounds coming from under the bar and finally gives into her friend's demands. I don't think she'll be back later.

I slump on the floor after opening a case of wine and wiping down the counter for the after dinner massacre I predict to come. Daisuke volunteers to do the wine service on his own, although I hear him enlist Ken before they even leave the stairs.

A soft weight drops on my shoulder and forced breathing takes over my hearing. "Was she pretty?" A pale, slightly struggling Koushirou asks with an apologetic smile.

"Yeah. A total beauty." Except I didn't even think of calling her, so I threw her number in the trash. "You should have seen the tits on this girl!" Because maybe he would have appreciated them more.

"Sorry for the interruption, then." Koushirou makes an odd face somewhere between actually being sorry or sticking his tongue out. I secretly hope he's jealous because of me and not of me.

There's a crack of thunder in the short silence.

"Nonsense, you're sick." I run a hand, shakily, through his red hair. I've touched it more in these last couple of weeks than I ever did in college. It's soft despite its natural spiky look. I can't help myself from curling a short strand above the nape of his neck and acting as though I only accidentally tickled the sensitive spot behind his ear. Koushirou colors almost completely, which is a feat considering how white he's been.

The boat lurches and in his situation Koushirou falls closer against me. If we were anyone else, anywhere else we might have looked like a couple getting closer: Koushirou's head on my chest, listening to my heart, my hands caressing the back of his head. Unfortunately we're Taichi and Koushirou on a boat in the middle of the ocean centered in reality.

"You feeling okay?" I whisper lightly, hand rolling down to comfort his shaking shoulders. "Do you want some water? Do you need the bathroom?" There's only one men's room on the whole boat, and it's a single stall. It'd be too much of an inconvenience for Koushirou to hole himself up in there for the rest of the night. Koushirou shakes his head, burying himself deeper into my chest. I almost forget to breathe, and wonder if I'm dreaming. It doesn't matter. I'm not letting go until he makes me, so I feel only slightly guilty when my nimble fingers make their way down to his slim waist.

A part of me knows it's because I'm committing these rare moments of contact to memory. Once Koushirou knows I look at him as more than a friend, he probably won't allow me to touch him. Heck, I'll be lucky to talk to him. Although maybe I'm giving him the short end of the stick. Koushirou isn't homophobic, or cruel. But I'm about ninety-two percent certain that if I found out tomorrow Yamato liked me I would have to wash my body for the next twelve hours straight even though we shared a bed almost two months ago.

_Two months. _

My time with Koushirou is almost over…and I need to tell him.

"Hey, Kou…?"

"Hmmmm?" He mumbles. I can see his eyes closed.

"I-Well the reason Yam- I really love-!" And I can't do it. My fingers tighten on his side just as the boat hits another intense wave and Koushirou pulls back, hands barricading his mouth.

It's nice to know that my almost-confession made him sick. (Yeah, I know it's from the boat and not me, but premonitions and all that, right…?)

"You're a good friend," Koushirou groans to the floor, but I'm aware that the comment was directed towards me. "You've been my most permanent companion, Taichi."

"Of course, you're my best friend!" It's why I take his phone calls when I could be sleeping. Or make sure he gets home on the rare occasion he gets drunk. It's why I gave up drinking whenever he chose to accompany me to parties, because he's a terrible lightweight who'd probably throw up on his laptop if I wasn't there to make sure he found the bucket. I'd do (almost) the same for Yamato, too, the pouty little bitch that he is.

Koushirou smiles back at me when his nausea subsides, which causes my own insides to quiver. "You are mine, as well."

Honestly, though, there's no one else I'd travel seas for just to get flanked on a daily basis.

I love him. In more ways than one. We were friends first, before my heart started jumping up and down shouting, "THAT ONE! I WANT THAT ONE!"

It's just that it turns out, my best friend is also the love of my life.

And that kind of sucks.

"Hey guys, go get your dinner if you want it!" Daisuke calls over the counter so I have to strain my neck to see his upside down visage.

Koushirou groans at the mention of food.

"Guess you're not hungry?" Daisuke jokes, good-naturedly. I laugh, patting Koushirou on the back for a second and ask the brunet to take over for me. Koushirou might not be able to stomach anything now, but I've been starving for one of Sora's cooked meals all day!

:D

Yamato doesn't turn around when I open the door, too busy prepping the dessert. He's the least interesting fact about the Galley. Sora's missing that's a plus! And there are two rows full of buffet items awaiting my stomach! I grab a leftover plate, filling up with fillet mignon and a little bit of salmon accompanied by a dollop of dill sauce and half a plate of mashed potatoes.

When I turn around to grab the salt, I come up with a shirt full of blue jelly. "What the heck?" I ask Yamato, running my fingers over the stain. I give him my best glare, but he isn't perturbed by it at all. I put a digit to my mouth and suck cautiously. It tastes sour.

Yamato flings another spoonful of the fruit cobbler in my direction. This time he misses, but made his mark when I feel the anger pool around my stomach. _Nobody_ wastes food on me!

"What the fuck, man?" I chuck a thing of pepper, hoping to hit his face, but I don't. I laugh, though, when black specks dust over his platinum hair. Score one for Taichi!

Our battle isn't over. Yamato throws his weapon (the spoon) and it leaves a nice, blue oval imprint on my aviator. I frown. Mimi was going to have a bitch fit about the stains. She probably wasn't going to care about MIA utensils and spices.

I grab for my blond companion, but he dodges me by staying on the other side of the metal shelves. There's no way for me to hit him through the racks of stuff between us, so we end up playing loop-the-loop around the island.

Until I finally ask, "What's your problem, _Yama_?" I put as much venom into the nickname as I could muster (my anger only slightly appeased by the taste of the cobbler still in my mouth).

"You are!" He accuses, still glaring his best through the spaces. He knocks a thing of spice at me, causing me to breathe in the heavy powder.

Coughing and pissed I wonder, "What did I do this time?"

Yamato stops for a second. "You don't know?" He asks in his nastiest tone. By this point I'm not sure who's chasing whom around the kitchen, but we are making quite a ruckus.

"You're so goddamn annoying!" He complains with a handful of salmon.

"How am I supposed to fix it, if I don't know what I did this time?" I seethe, trying to drive home my point with a butter knife.

"He's your best friend?"

Huh?

Oh…_Oh shit! _Yamato heard me talking to Koushirou.

Yamato glares at me expectantly. I rack my brain.

"He gives a shit?"

Oh boy. I can see the storm swirling in his light grey eye and that isn't good…

"Enough to frolic away to America? To stampede over your feelings for what? Three years? (About two months shy, but I don't bother to tell him). Enough to run off with the first bimbo that's nice to him? What a great best friend you have there, buddy!"

It hurts. It really hurts.

Because everything Yamato's just said about my friendship and my feelings for Koushirou? They're true. He got up and left me for America in a heartbeat. What happened to those promised visits, or that trust he was supposed to have in me?

"Look…" Yamato starts, about to apologize. I stop him. He can't take the words back, and he can't mask the truth. He wouldn't be my Yamato if he did.

I smile, humorlessly. "So how much did you hear?"

Yamato half smirks, his body relaxing into the direction of our conversation. "About when-" His features suddenly go pale.

A soft breeze runs over my scalp

_Schlick!_

I open my eyes to see one of Sora's fucking blades wedged into the closet, as though we were stuck in a horror movie and she just caught Yamato and I poking around in a secluded place. That's grounds for death in a gore flick. I watch with terror as thick strands of brown hair twirl to the ground. _My hair!_

Sora's eyes hold the same intent as Michael Meyers, or some other criminally insane soon-to-be murderer. "Just what are you two doing?" Her voice washes over us like cold water. I know Yamato feels the ice in her tone because I can see him shivering.

I survey the casualties left over (GET IT?! Leftovers…) from our food fight. Pepper mixed with salt, mixed with ketchup and mustard painted counters. Lettuce, potatoes, and fish meat are pasted on the ground, in Yamato's hair, and anywhere else it shouldn't be. I don't care to know how I look at this point. The blue cobbler is more on my shirt than it is in the pan…And I can barely feel my face under all the goo!

"Uhm…" Yamato tells her, helpfully.

"Yeah!" I agree a second too early, because I didn't really wait to hear his brilliant plan. I'm not really sure who fucked up this time.

Sora's amber eyes ignite painfully and I almost cry from the heat. The fire in her eyes turn on me first: "Get out!" The contradicting tone of her voice makes me freeze for a moment, but I hurry the heck out of there when my instincts say: RUN!

My last image of the angered woman is the back of her chefs coat, hand pulling the dagger from it's safe point and looming after a very pathetic looking Yamato.

God, was I going to miss him!

I think about swimming home being much easier than hiding on a boat. Sora can find me here. But then my brain reasons that it doesn't matter. She'd chase me down with a speedboat if she had to.

"Hey Tai!" Daisuke greets me at the bar after I've spent the last half hour in the bathroom trying to get out as much of World War Kitchen from my hair and clothes as possible. He points an accusing finger in my direction. "Your shirt! You're all fruity!"

I have to laugh at the irony.

Koushirou looks into my eyes, his own dazed and endless. "You look different…" He tells me, far away. As I lean down to sit back with him, Koushirou's fingers reach out to play with my hair. It's a bit lopsided from where Sora's fucking blade nearly took off my head. It's time for a cut, anyway. I smile softly at the sensation of Koushirou touching me. "Did you do something with your hair?"

I grimace at the memory, "Sora."

My answer is enough, because Koushirou goes back to being the quiet little sick boy he's supposed to be.

A heartbeat later, he leans his head back on my shoulder. My heart swells with pride. He's exactly where it thinks he should be. I meet Daisuke's eyes briefly when I look back up. He smiles back before breaking the contact to attend to the after dinner rush.

It's not as though I look suitable enough to work, anyway. I lean my head back against Koushirou's and Daisuke, surprisingly, says nothing superfluous at all.

:P

This is about the halfway point for what I have planned, but it's always coming up with new things so it's possible there'll be a few more… Right now I'm planning on 12 or 13 chapters in total.


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